It was a dark, foggy night in November when he made his first appearance in the tutoring center. I’d been working there since the middle of my freshman year – I’m now a sophomore – helping my fellow students with everything from study skills to crafting a decent term paper to getting that elusive ‘A’ on the midterm or final exam.
Speaking of grades, a little background about me: I’m a straight ‘A’ student, have been ever since I can remember. Back in the day, I was a spelling bee champion, geography bee finalist, and national merit scholar. Now that I’m enrolled at State U, I’m double-majoring in pre-med and economics. I don’t mean to brag – let’s just say, academic success has always come fairly easily to me.
So, when it came time to find a job on campus that would pay the bills, the tutoring center was an obvious choice. I could catch spelling errors or fix bad grammar in my sleep. Teaching others about good study habits was as easy as, well, describing my own good study habits. The results spoke for themselves, right? Yes, there were those over the years who’d called me a nerd, or a snob, or worse; but now that my hard work was paying off – both on my transcript and in my bank account – I didn’t really care.
By the time he came in that evening, I was fairly used to the routine. The student working the front counter brought him in to my office – oh, did I mention, I’d graduated to an office? Not that it was my own – I shared it with tutors who worked different shifts – but it was a perk for those of us who’d stayed with the job and proven ourselves. It was nice to have the privacy, whether the office was quiet and I was just doing my own studying, or whether I was trying to help someone.
Anyway, he handed me his paperwork, which consisted of a syllabus for a US History course, and a letter from his coach, explaining that if he didn’t bring his grades up, he’d be off the football team. He grinned at me in that irritatingly confident way that jocks do, and I responded by sticking with the most professional demeanor I could muster. The lines were drawn – he was the cute jock who didn’t care about his grades and thought he could get through life on looks and brawn, while I would show him that there was more to life than RBIs and touchdowns and penalty kicks.
Did I mention how attractive he was? Yeah, couldn’t deny that. 6’2″, blonde, blue eyed, with a great smile, and the great body of an athlete in his prime. I couldn’t take my eyes off his big, strong hands, and when my eyes met his, I couldn’t help but blush. All the more reason to put on my serious face, my professional demeanor. I walked around my desk and sat down, putting some distance between us.
“So,” I said, looking down at the letter as if I hadn’t quite caught his name, “Jake, is it? Where would you like to start?”
“How about with your name?”
“Oh, um, sure – sorry! My name’s Kirsten. So, you’d like some help with the US History course?”
“Yup, I’m really struggling in that one.”
“OK,” I said as I thumbed through the syllabus, “it looks like you’ve already written a couple of papers for this class, and you have a midterm coming up? Any chance you have one of your papers with you, so I can see the kind of work you’ve been doing so far?”
He grabbed his workout bag off the floor, dug around in it for a moment, and pulled out a few pages – folded, wrinkled, stained as they were – and handed them over to me. I unfolded them, pressed them flat against the desk with my hand, and motioned for him to feel free to sit down, as I started to read. The big red ‘F’ at the top of the paper was hard to miss, as were the reasons for it; it was soon obvious that this guy had no concept of how to structure an argument, how to answer the question being asked, hell, how to spell! Yikes, I’d have my work cut out for me. I always did like a challenge, though.
“Um, OK. So, have you talked to your professor about whether he’d allow you to re-write any of your papers?”
“No way, he’s really by the book. Won’t accept anything late, won’t allow retakes or rewrites. Not much point anyway, I’ve never been good at writing papers.”
“Alright then, so it sounds like the midterm is where we should focus. How about we set up a time for you to come back between now and the test date? If you set aside some quality time between now and then to study, I can quiz you.”
“Sounds cool. So, when should I come back?”
“Well, I could do Friday at 10am?”
“Hmm, that’s kind of early for me, do you have anything later?”
Of course. Out all night partying, no doubt. “Well, I could squeeze you in at the end of the day Monday, that’s my late day here. I have someone until 7, and then we close at 8 – would that hour work for you?”
“Perfect. It’s a date.” His eyes twinkled as he said it, and once again I blushed. Damn, ridiculous that he had this power over me. He probably couldn’t even spell ‘cat’ if you spotted him the ‘c’ and the ‘a’ and hinted that it ended in ‘t’, but here I was swooning bursa escort like a schoolgirl.
“OK, I’ll see you then. In the meantime, here are some handouts about effective study habits. Be sure to put in enough time between now and then that you know your stuff. I won’t go easy on you!”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Kirsten.”
I watched him leave the office, and as he headed down the hallway, fold one of the study skills handouts into a paper airplane and send it flying. Jeez. I didn’t have any other drop-ins that evening, so spent the rest of my time looking over his syllabus and drafting a list of questions I could ask him when he returned. The rest of my week was a busy one, with tests and papers of my own, so I have to admit I quickly forgot about Jake after leaving the office that night.
It wasn’t until Monday morning that I thought of him again, as I stood in front of my dorm room closet, trying to decide what to wear that day. It shouldn’t matter to me how I looked going in to work that day, and yet somehow, I did spend a few extra minutes picking out an outfit. Why did this idiot have this power over me? Did hot jocks feel any pressure to study so that they’d impress us brainy girls? Never.
What outfit did I choose? I guess I shouldn’t leave you hanging. I went with a blue silk blouse, buttoned down the front, the one that brought a few complements on my big blue eyes every time I wore it; my favorite jeans, the ones that fit perfectly and look great with anything; and black pumps. OK, OK, so clearly I wanted him to notice me. Hell, it was worth a try. If knowledge itself wasn’t enough to inspire him, maybe a little sex appeal could do the trick.
The day dragged on, with my own classes in the morning followed by a busy afternoon and evening at the tutoring center. Finally, 5 minutes late for his appointment, Jake wandered in and sat down. I felt his eyes move over my body as I shut the door to my office and walked over to the desk.
“So, Jake, have you found some time to study since I saw you last?”
“Ah, right down to business, huh? What ever happened to a nice ‘hello, how are you today?’, something like that?”
“Um, OK,” I replied with a smile, “How are you doing today, Jake?”
“I’m great, Kirsten, how are you doing?”
“Just fine. Now,” I said, getting back to business, “have you found some time to study since I saw you last?”
“Wow, you are a task master, aren’t you? OK, yes, I’ve done a little studying. But this history stuff just doesn’t stick with me. Not enough excitement to it.”
“Are you kidding? There are so many great, thrilling stories in the history of our country, from the fight for independence, to the establishment of our government and our court system, the civil war, and all the way up to the last several decades, with wars, civil rights movements, you’re telling me you don’t find any of that exciting?” I raised my voice a little as I talked, exasperated as I was. He simply smiled again, that obnoxiously adorable smile of his.
“Well, I can see you’re getting excited about it, that’s a start!”
I sighed, stood up from my chair, walked around the desk, and sat on the edge, facing him. “Alright, Jake. You’ve got me for the next hour, and I’m determined to help you in your class. But I’m at a loss here – if you’re really not interested, I don’t know what I can do for you! You tell me how we can make this work.”
“How about you start by asking me some questions.”
“Um, OK. Pretty revolutionary method, I don’t know…”
“Ha ha, very funny. Let me finish.”
“OK, sorry, go ahead.”
“Every time I get something right, you take something off. Every time I get something wrong, you get to put something back on.”
“Are you kidding? Strip tutoring? Yeah, right.”
“Well, hey, you’ve seen my work in this class so far. You’re probably pretty safe, don’t you think?”
I studied his face for a moment, searching my thoughts for an answer to his proposal. He had a point – there was no way he’d get the best of me. And if he did manage to get a shoe, or even both, I’d just start asking him harder questions.
“OK, sure, what the heck. If you’ll genuinely try, I’m game.”
“You have my full attention, professor.”
“OK, here goes. Let’s start with an easy one, build your confidence a little.” He nodded, and I proceeded. “In what year was President Kennedy assassinated?”
“Ooh, I’m getting a shoe. 1963.”
“OK, fine, one shoe off.” I kicked one of my pumps towards him, and he caught it, holding it up as if it was a great prize. I giggled.
“Alright, a little harder this time. Name two of the other US presidents who have been assassinated.”
“Hmm, well, I know Lincoln, but I guess I’ll have to give you your shoe back.” I stretched my leg out to him, and he put the shoe back on my foot. It was like some bizarre parallel universe version of Cinderella.
“Alright, then. How about this one: in what decade did the American civil bursa escort bayan war take place?”
“1860’s.” The shoe was his again.
“Alright, good. Please explain the significance of the Emancipation Proclamation.”
“Not a chance.” Back on my foot the shoe went.
We went on like this for a while, and I was actually enjoying myself – not only did I genuinely feel like I might be getting somewhere with him, keeping his attention as the questions got a bit harder, but it was fun to banter with him, always staying a step ahead of anything that might get out of hand. After ten minutes or so, though, he started to gain ground. He had both of my shoes, and when I went to a harder question, he hesitated only for a moment before smiling and answering correctly: “That’s easy, the Potsdam Conference.”
“You’re not backing out on your end of this bargain, are you, Kirsten? You know the rules.”
“Oh, alright,” telling myself I’d just up the difficulty of the questions once again, but still baffled that he’d suddenly grown a brain. I debated for a moment about whether my jeans or my shirt should be next, before finally settling on the shirt. I slowly unbuttoned it, my eyes staying on his as I did so, until finally reaching the last button and pulling it off my shoulders. He smiled as he took in the view, and I tossed the shirt towards him. His collection of prizes was growing. I enjoyed the attention, but wanted to regain control.
“Alright, Jake. Please tell me the year of the Brown vs. Board of Education ruling, and describe its significance.”
I stood before him, leaning on the desk with my bare feet on the floor, feeling remarkably naked in just a bra and jeans, but confidently awaiting his failure to answer the question. It was terrible, really, eager tutor that I was, actually hoping that one of my students would fail to know the answer.
“Let’s see, that was 1954. Essentially, the ruling stated that the ‘separate but equal’ standard which allowed for segregation of schools, in this case in Kansas, was unconstitutional.”
My mouth literally dropped open, I was so shocked. Not only did he give me the answer without the slightest hesitation, but it was a completely accurate and remarkably concise answer. Exactly the kind his professor would be hoping to see on the exam.
“That’s right, Kirsten. I think the jeans are mine.”
I stared at him for a moment, filled with a mixture of emotions, my heart pounding. I was nervous, suddenly aware of my surroundings, standing, as I was, half-naked in the office. I was suddenly curious whether he’d been misleading me about his lack of knowledge. Had he actually been studying hard this week, and plotting this situation all along? But mostly, I was becoming aware of the warmth between my legs. This scenario was actually getting me hot.
There was a knock on my office door before I could respond in any way to the situation. “Just a second,” I blurted. Jake tossed me my blouse, which I quickly put back on and buttoned, before striding over to the door in my bare feet to see what was up.
“Sorry to bug you, Kirsten, I know you’re with a student.” It was our student receptionist, Megan, whose face greeted me when I opened the door. She glanced at Jake, who had smartly hidden my shoes and picked up his book, which he was pretending to read. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving, and I think you’re the last one here. Do you want me to lock up?”
“Um, yes, that would be great. I should be done in just a few minutes. But yes,” I tried to sound as calm, as normal, as possible, “if you could lock the front door, that would be great. That way I can finish up with this student without any interruptions.”
Megan seemed convinced. Either that, or she knew something was up but just didn’t care. Probably had a hot date of her own to get to. Meanwhile, my attention went back to Jake, eager to see what would happen next. I listened for Tessa’s key in the door of the outer office, and then closed my office door again, just as a precaution. Jake set down his book and looked up at me as I once again leaned against my desk. “So, I believe you owe me both the blouse and the jeans. You OK with that?”
“Don’t worry, Jake,” I replied as I removed first the blouse and then the pants, tossing them his way, “I’ll be getting these back before you know it.”
“Oh, really? We’ll see about that.”
The confidence in his voice now sounded real, more than just the swagger of a jock. Did he know something I didn’t? I mean that literally – did he know something about US History that I didn’t know he knew? I felt incredibly naked, even though I wasn’t – yet. I stood before him in my matching bra and panties – black lace, if you must know – and was suddenly very self-conscious, as his eyes moved over my body. He shifted in his chair, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t getting excited himself. But I re-focused. I was too competitive to simply let him win. There was no way escort bursa he was going to beat me at this little game.
“Alright, Jake. The 18th amendment to the Constitution. Give me the year, the context for and details of the amendment, and explain how it relates to the 21st.”
I started to reach for my jeans, which he was still holding on his lap, but he just smiled and launched into a well-formed response to my question. After finishing his nuanced description of the historical and cultural context of Prohibition, he paused for a moment, before finishing with, “You know, Kirsten, you really should have known better than to ask a dumb jock like me a question about alcohol.”
I smiled, and reached behind my back to unhook my bra. A moment later, it was on his lap with the rest of my clothes, and my perfect round breasts were free for him to view.
I paused for a moment, wondering once again, although caring less now, how he had gotten the best of me. I wrapped a finger around the lacy fabric of my panties at each hip, and slowly slithered out of them, until I was finally standing before him, completely naked. “So, Jake, now that you have me here, naked, alone, what are you going to do with me?”
He stood up, tossing my clothes to the floor, his erection now obvious in his sweatpants as he approached me. He took my hand and placed it against his bulging cock, and I needed no further hint to begin stroking him.
“The truth is, Kirsten,” as his hand cupped my dripping wet pussy, “In addition to being a football player, I’m a history major. Straight ‘A’ student, just like yourself. I just happened to have an interest in getting inside your pants, and figured this was the only way you’d give me the time of day, what with your unreasonable prejudices against athletes.”
I wanted to protest, to assure him that I wasn’t prejudiced, that I would have given him a chance, that I would in fact have been flattered to know that he was interested in a nerd like me – but I could only moan in pleasure at his touch, as he began pinching my clit in between long, slow strokes in and out of my pussy. I didn’t want him to stop, but I also wanted to show him my appreciation, so I quickly dropped to my knees, pulling his pants and boxers down as I went.
His big, hard cock bounced free and I eagerly took it into my mouth, beginning a slow, steady rhythm. I sucked him in from tip to base, my tongue busy pleasuring him inside my mouth while my fingers tickled his balls. Never before had I enjoyed giving head so much as in this moment, my own juices trickling down my inner thigh as I felt him begin to stroke in and out of my mouth, moaning as I brought him closer and closer to climax.
He grabbed my long blonde hair in both hands, weaving his fingers through it and forcing himself deep into my throat with an increasing tempo. He lasted for what seemed like minutes as I continued to focus all of my attention on his throbbing cock. I gasped for air as he finally pulled out of my mouth for the last time, stepping back and shooting his load all over my face, his hot, sticky cum dripping from my chin down onto my erect nipples.
After taking just a moment to admire his work, like an artist surveying his canvas, Jake pulled me up off my knees and scooped me up into the air, placing me gently on the desk. I needed no encouragement to spread my legs for him, allowing him to give my throbbing pussy some much-needed attention. Jake knelt between my legs and began licking me, slowly, gently, again and again until I began writhing beneath his expert touch.
His fingers were next, first one, then two, then three pressing into my hot wetness as I grabbed his head and pressed him into me. It was now Jake who was gasping for air as I quickly reached my first climax, squirting my juices onto his face and just barely containing myself to a whimpering moan, rather than an all-out scream.
I panted, dizzy with pleasure, sticky with sweat, as I came down from my waves of pleasure. I felt Jake’s hands on my hips, and opened my eyes to see him pull me to the edge of the desk, where he could press his hard cock into me from his standing position. I lifted my legs, resting my calves against his shoulders, and cried out as he bottomed out inside of me, holding himself there as we both adjusted to the incredible sensations of his big cock inside my tight pussy.
He began slowly rotating his hips, remaining fully buried inside of me, for a few minutes, before starting an in-and-out motion, which he continued for a few minutes more, our eyes meeting as I encouraged him with my intense look of sheer lust. I had never experienced such raw sexuality before, certainly not on top of a desk in an office – something that had long been a secret fantasy of mine.
As we both approached climax, he shifted our position, pulling out of me long enough for me to scramble off the desk and to my feet next to him. In one smooth but aggressive motion, he spun me around, pushed me against the desk, my forearms supporting my weight, and plunged into me from behind.
I now lost all track of my surroundings, and cried out in pleasure with each of his strokes. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s it – fuck me! Yes, just like that!”